J'adore Votre Voix
by LoveHappyEndings
Summary: ...or Once Upon a Time in the City of Love. Emma's always had a weakness for accents, and the guitarist next door has one she *definitely* has a weakness for. When she finally meets him she sees he's not just the hot guy with an accent, but rather someone a lot like her. Rating details inside.
1. An Accent and a Song

**My first OUAT fic and it's AU, hope it's okay. There are some deeper things touched upon, their past and such, but it's not really explored. It's just something they tell each other. Because I'm guessing in relationships, past relationships usually come out.**

**Rating is T, but a little suggestive. I have plans to up the rating if this fic generates interest and I add on more.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own these characters, ABC and Disney does.**

* * *

Leaning over the kitchen sink, Emma pulls back the blue curtains, and tugs hard at the old window. It opens with it's regular shrill _creak_. The usual strum of the guitar and a husky sounding voice greet her**.**

She first heard the faint strains of the guitar a week ago, the first day she arrived in lovely Marais, Paris. Her body still thought it was one in the morning like back home, but in Paris it was ten am. Wanting nothing but to strip off her sweaty clothes, (that ten hour flight had not been good to her,) and flop onto the bed; the first few notes of an older Maroon 5 songs drifted to her ears, coming from somewhere around the old apartment building.

At first, she was annoyed. She couldn't leave the windows closed because it was hot and there wasn't a fan. But when a voice sang the opening line about the eighteen year old beauty queen, she was intrigued.

_Also a bit turned on._ Emma blushed fiercely at that thought, but that voice was so warm and sexy and she really couldn't control her rising temperature and dear god she missed her trusty shower head back home.

Emma wouldn't dare admit aloud what a nice sounding voice did to her.

So she keeps the window ajar, curtains flapping in the breeze, and falls asleep to the stranger's lulling voice and guitar.

The second time Emma heard it was only a few days after. She still hadn't really gotten used to the time change. She wasn't used to having to wait until after six pm, Paris time, to text her friends who are just waking up. Her friends had had varying reactions when she texted them at lunch, only to find out it was about three am back home where they were. Her friend Ruby had sent her a picture of her analog clock, it's bright red numbers showing Emma the time. A _damn you_ accompanied the picture.

She had been eating some leftover chicken and drinking tea early in the morning when the guy started singing.

He sang his usual nineties songs, a few from the early 2000's. She was proud to say she knew them all.

Of course she has to close the window when she leaves the apartment because of burglars, and stray cats, which was why she was prying the thing open again after a long day of shopping with a friend she had in Paris, Belle French. Marais was a shopping district, so there was no shortage of shoe stores.

(With awesome 50-70 percent off sales. She had bought a cute, strappy and totally not sensible pair of shoes, that had made up for the elbowing she had had to endure.)

This time however, after the window opened, the voice stopped singing and the guitar was cut off abruptly.

_Damn_.

"Hey, blonde lass!"

Emma freezes. It was the _voice_. The voice that woke her up, or sang her to sleep.

And made her feel a little bit _hormonal. _

Now that he is speaking, she notices the accent is distinctly Irish. An accent, that explains it. She's always had a weakness for accents.

"Uh, me?" She sticks her head out the window and looks left and right, searching for whatever window the voice is coming from.

The stranger pops his head out of a window a few windows to her right. It's hard to tell because of the distance, but he seems about her age, with dark hair.

"Yeah, you. Any suggestions?" He calls out.

"How'd you know I was listening?" Emma asks bewildered.

"I can hear your window creaking open every time I start." She can see him grinning. Jerk.

"Oh." She blushes and hopes the distance makes it hard for him to see her red face.

"So, any suggestions?" He repeats.

(She thinks about it as she boils some water and sticks a tea bag in a mug with an Eiffel Tower on it.)

"How about 'Endlessly' by that Irish guy?"

She can see his nod of affirmation, (he knows it,) and she sips her tea as his voice washes over her yet again.

* * *

After he plays that, and she applauds, he asks her name.

"Emma." Emma reboils some water. Just so she can do something with her hands.

"Well Emma, I'm Killian. Does there happen to be a last name...?"

"Swan." She used to worry about strangers and personal info, but after too many failed relationships, and friendships, she just didn't care anymore.

"Jones. I'd shake your hand but, you know."

Emma laughs. He asks for more suggestions, (he rolls his eyes at some of her choices,) and suddenly the room feels really hot. She resists the urge to fan herself with the discarded metro map beside her.

He plays another song, and then she makes some excuse about leaving to go shopping.

(He doesn't need to know she just went.)

They both close their windows and after she puts her tea cup down, she sprints for the washroom. The shower head is decent.

She ends up turning in early, she doesn't have the energy nor the desire to see Paris at the moment. All she wants to see is the man a couple windows to her right.

* * *

**I can continue this if it generates interest, reviews are loved! Thinking of posting a first date fic, I dunno.**


	2. Whipped Cream and a Broken Promise

**I was so happy with the follows and all! Maybe some feedback for this one, would mean the world to me. :)**

**T still. F bomb and suggestive language, M next chapter if I get there..?**

**Disclaimer: I don't own OUAT**

* * *

Emma is dreaming of croissants when a loud noise wakes her up.

As she quickly sits up, (and regrets it as her vision swims,) another loud sound echoes around the apartment. It was someone knocking at the door. Emma glances at the clock and groans as she sees the time. Ten. In. The. Freaking. Morning. Maybe Belle wanted to go shopping again. She couldn't think of anyone else who would come by.

(Well she can, but this isn't some cliché fairy tale.)

Emma tries to fall back asleep, unsuccessfully. Try as she might, her mind keeps wandering now that she's up. Just as she's able to drift off, _croissants here she comes,_ the person_ bangs _on the wood. Over and over, raining blows against the poor door.

(She only gets up because she's just renting this place, and the cost of a new door _and_ locks would be _hell_ to pay.

Still sleepy, she pads over to the door and opens it to reveal Killian just as he's yelling "SWAN!"

(Okay, she's living in a cliché fairy tale.) He is most certainly not Belle, if his stubble and very manly physique is anything to go by.

_God, that shirt_. Her inner voice gushes, and while she wishes it would shut up, she likes that he has the sleeves rolled up a bit.

Emma notices his eyes are rimmed with eyeliner. Though it only adds to his looks and she really wishes she was fully awake to appreciate it. His eyes are a brilliant blue, and they currently seem to be staring at her. She blushes as she remembers that unlike him, she's in her pyjamas. She crosses her arms in front of her chest.

"Done looking?" Is her defensive greeting.

"Sorry lass, didn't mean to stare." He scratches the back of his head sheepishly.

"It's fine. What's not fine, is you waking me up from my much needed sleep." Emma gives him a little glare.

"It's ten in the morning!" He protests.

"Where I come from, it's one. And ten is still early." Emma tries to cover a yawn.

And fails miserably.

"Well, I guess an apology is in order. So here." He quickly thrusts a hand in her direction and she blink a few times to see he is holding something. Two metro tickets.

"I'm taking you to Versailles." He grins. His expression is so much like a loveable puppy's that she can feel her resolve wearing down.

"You don't even know me." Emma points out. "I don't even know you."

"We can get to know each other." He says cheekily.

"Oh my god!" Emma slaps a hand over her mouth, but the derisive giggle escapes nonetheless.

"What?" Killian asks bewilderingly.

"That is a line I have heard so many times." Emma is reminded of too many dates that ended up wrong, and of men who were all wrong for her.

"Fine. But you should still get to see Paris." He says stubbornly. "I bet you haven't even wandered out of this district. I bet you haven't even seen the Eiffel Tower. Or the Notre Dame. Which are the biggest tourist spots."

"How do you know I haven't?" Emma challenges.

(She hadn't.)

"You haven't." He says. "Your body hasn't even caught up with the time change."

"How do you know I'm a tourist?!"

"You accent. Or lack of one." He looks at her pleadingly. "Please?" ️ ️

Emma sighs in defeat. "I got nothing better to do." ️ ️ ️ ️ ️ ️ ️

* * *

"Is the line always this long?" It's boiling hot and an hour has already passed. She can't wait to go to the nearby Starbucks she saw.

"Yup." He pops the 'p'. Killian tries not to notice the way her shirt sticks to her skin, and that the heat makes her skin glow.

"This better be worth it."

"Oh it is Swan. It is."

The sun is really beating down on them and Killian can't help but squint because of the brightness. He puts on the sunglasses that had been hooked on his shirt, and takes that chance to ogle her. From the distance between their windows, she looked cute. A little quirky, who would actually take the time out of their day to open the window and _listen_?

But with the sun around her and that little smile that she has as she looks around, she's _beautiful_.

"Don't think I can't see you." Emma says and he flushes a bit. "I know your tricks_."_

"Well love, you are quite pleasing to look at." Killian admits. Quite_ beautiful_.

"How about we get to know each other to pass the time." Emma suggests, then quickly backtracks at his eyebrow wiggle. "Not the way you were insinuating earlier."

"Fine. I'm a three hundred year old pirate with a hook for a hand." He smirks at her.

She looks at his hands, which lack a hook.

"Seriously." Emma sighs. "I've agreed to go on a packed metro with you, a perfect stranger, and now I'm spending a day with you. A perfect stranger."

"Well I _am_ perfect." He smirks. "Devilishly handsome as well. A dashing rapscallion."

Emma looks at him unimpressed.

"I'm not really anything." He shrugs. "A musician, someone who likes being on the water, a lover of blondes..." He winces at her look. "Okay okay. I uh," he fishes for something interesting. "I used to be an alcoholic." He regrets it as soon as it leaves his lips.

"Really?" Emma's interest is piqued.

"It was the rum." He confessed. "I needed it to get through a ah...difficult time."

"Breakup?"

"We never actually broke up. She died." He felt his tattoo so clearly, as if it was being branded on again. _Milah_. He knew he had been over her for a while, but she would always have a place in his heart. A heart that was feeling like maybe there was room for someone else.

"I'm so sorry." She doesn't know what she's apologizing for, the girl's death or his sadness.

"It was a long time ago." He waves a hand in her direction. "Now let's hear about you."

"I'm a bail bonds person."

"Ah, that's how you knew the tricks."

"That's part of it, I've had quite a few relationships too, bad ones." She shuddered. "The one time I fell for a decent guy, he dumps my ass and I end up going to jail. Long story." She adds when she sees the look on his face.

"Line's moving." He manages to say.

They move a few steps and he speaks again. "Anything more pleasant and happy I should know about you?"

"I like hot chocolate with cinnamon." Emma blurts out. Oops.

He conceals his grin. "Something sweet for someone-" he almost quails under her look. "Right. You know the tricks."

Emma chuckles. "And, I have a tattoo."

At this, Killian chokes on his own saliva. She's wearing shorts and a tank top, leaving her arms bare as well as her legs. So he has to wonder, where is it?

"Where ah, where is it?" He voices aloud.

"That's for me to know, and you to never find out," Emma grins and finally the two of them move into the Sun Palace.

* * *

The palace _had_ been beautiful. The hall of mirrors featured many statues, and while the nakedness of a lot of them made her uncomfortable and made Killian smirk and wiggle his eyebrows at her, she enjoyed the visit. She remembered learning all about the revolution, guillotines, and how the palace was built.

"Can we go to Starbucks now?" Emma asks.

Killian looks at her. "You come to France, which has great cafés with great coffee, and you go to Starbucks?"

"I want a cold drink!" Emma defends herself. "And I've gone to these 'great' cafés and mister, the service sucks. I waited half an hour, and the place wasn't even busy."

Killian rolls his eyes. "You're going to the ones in tourists spots, they're sick of em. Half the time tourists don't even bother to _try_ and speak their language."

"Oh really? Guess you'll have to take me to one." Emma teases. And wishes she hadn't at the look on his face.

"Then I will." He says and that's that.

* * *

After she's had her cold drink, they take the train back to central Paris, where they're forced to use the metro again.

The tunnels smell faintly of urine, and the only upside is the talented violinist who's playing. She's playing a song on top of a track, a piano and some kind of bell instrument accompany her. Emma throws a couple euros into her instrument case and the lady manages to say a quick _merci_, before delving into a fast song.

"So, which one?" Emma asks as they're faced with a couple tunnels that branch off. Signs are at the entrance of each one.

"This one." He leads her down the nearest one.

* * *

The metro lurches and she's thrown towards Killian, who catches her neatly.

"Thanks." She mutters and grabs onto the support pole tightly. Her stupid heart and that little voice are back and if they don't _shut up _about his arm muscles that she had held onto, or the sliver of skin that had showed as his shirt rode up then she would bang her head against the tracks.

"Please mind the gap between the train and the platform." The robotic voice interrupts her inner monologue.

"Here's our stop," Killian bounds off the train, tugging her arm in the process.

They walk towards the apartment they're staying at, and he suddenly stops in front of a café named Café Manfred.

"Best hot chocolate ever. And with whipped cream so you can have cinnamon."

"What is it in French?" Emma's curious. "I want to try to speak their language."

"There's no definite word, but in this café it's 'chocolat vennois'." He says, a French accent coming out a bit.

"You fluent?" She asks as they sit at an outside table.

"Enough to get by. I think you can tell from my Irish accent I wasn't raised here."

"How long _have_ you been here?"

"A couple of years." Killian waves down a waiter.

"Bonjour, what is it today Jones?" The French accent is apparent, but apparently he speaks English.

"Just an espresso. The lady will have..." He looks to Emma.

"Uh, chocolat vennois." She's glad she managed to say that.

After he leaves, Emma pats her pockets. Forgot a wallet.

"I don't have money on me."

"I'll pay." He waves a hand.

"No no, I'll pay you back okay?" Emma insists.

He rolls his eyes. "Sure Swan."

A different server comes back with the drinks. She smiles at the two of them and says something in fast French.

Killian starts spluttering and Emma wonders what the server said.

He answers in equally fast French, and the lady merely smiles at Emma.

"Uh, merci." She takes a sip from the drink and holds back a little moan of pleasure.

"Enjoying yourself, love?" He smirks at her, previous spluttering gone.

"Shut up. This is really good." Emma takes another sip.

"You've got whipped cream uh," he motions to her top lip and she licks it off.

The drinks are gone in a matter of minutes.

"So, what'd she say?" Emma asks.

"She thought we were engaged. She saw your ring. You didn't tell me you were married." His expression is of, _disappointment_?

"Oh." Emma glances at her left hand. "It's not an engagement or wedding ring. It's a promise ring."

"And the promise?"

"Broken."

* * *

**I'll have the next chapter up soon? Maybe a few days later than last time, got a plane to catch and it's a long one. In the meantime, click the review button, it's lonely.**


	3. Love and Happy Endings

**SMUT WARNING. M RATED STUFF HERE. DON'T SAY I DIDN'T WARN YOU.**

**If it really bothers you, I've got the censored version on my tumblr account.**

**Also, this is my first time writing anything close to smut, so it really isn't _that_ smutty.**

**Last chapter! Wish there had been a little more feedback, I'd really like to know what's good and definitely what needs to be fixed. But the followers here show me you're interested, so I'm glad.**

**Disclaimer: OUAT belongs to Adam Horowitz and Eddy Kitsis.**

* * *

He's dreaming of whipped cream and Emma Swan, her damn tongue makes an appearance, (not by itself obviously,) when his alarm goes off.

He jolts awake, and remembers why he set an alarm. A quick glance at his clock says he has half an hour until ten.

After a jump in the shower, and some teeth brushing, he's out the door.

When he realizes he forgot his pants.

The lady from across the hall turns away, but he still hears the giggle. Either at the lack of pants or because he still has the _problem_ down there.

"Damn it."

* * *

Emma's lazily eating a croissant that she and Killian picked up from some bakery yesterday, (you _have_ to eat this,) when she hears a knock at the door.

Having a sense of déjà vu, she walks over to the door and opens it.

"Eiffel Tower today. Hurry up and uh, get changed." He motions towards her chest, where she remembers she isn't wearing a bra, just her thin night shirt. A _very_ thin shirt.

"Damn it."

His low chuckles follow her as she sprints into her room.

"Make yourself at home!" She shouts as she throws on a bra and a lacy blue dress that totally don't remind her of someone's eyes, and a pair of ankle boots. She looks longingly at her leather jacket, but knows she'll regret it. Paris weather at this time is sweltering hot.

She walks back into the living room to see him awkwardly swaying from side to side. His expression brightens when he sees her.

"I just have to close the window." Emma goes to the small kitchenette and reaches over the counter to close the window.

"Okay, ready." She grabs her purse.

"Great, let's go." He holds open the door for her.

_Aaaw_...

_Shut up._

"Oh, wait. Let me get my metro pass." She brushes aside the little voice, who's she's naming Regina because the name suits the annoying voice.

Killian looks puzzled "Why?"

"So we can take the metro again..."

He snorts with laughter. "That disgusting, dirty, death trap thing? Come on Swan, I'm driving"

* * *

Emma looks at the vehicle. And lack of helmets. "A moped? Pegged you as someone with a motorbike."

"Psh." Killian scoffed. "No one has those here. It's either bikes, cars or mopeds."

Regina reminds her of the time a taxi almost hit her even though the pedestrian light was green. And the time a guy on a bike actually ran into her. He had been riding on the side walk. And the time when-

_Shut. Up._

"Well, I've seen how Parisians drive. I dunno if I want to-"

"I'm a great driver." He flashes her a sexy grin and she gets on the moped.

* * *

"LOOK OUT!"

"Relax Swan, I've got this."

"OMIGOSH WATCH OUT FOR THE PEDESTRIAN!"

"They're j walking, I have the right of way."

"SLOW THE FUCK DOWN!"

"But everyone else is going this speed." This response is said in a whiny voice.

"I WILL JUMP OFF IF YOU KEEP-SHIT WATCH OUT FOR THE MAILBOX!"

"Fine." He grumbles and goes at a slower pace. Emma grins slightly. She of course has no problem with speed or danger, she'd just like to keep her arms around him a little longer.

* * *

"Watch out for them," Killian grabs her shoulders and turns her a bit away from a man carrying a bunch of bracelets. "They'll strap the bracelet on your wrist when you're not looking and make you pay for it. Those things can be 10 euros."

"Ten. Okay got it." Emma shivers a bit at his tight hold on her, but then he lets go and she lets out a breath.

"Come on, let's wait in line for the elevator."

"Line? Hell no, we're using the stairs." Emma grabs his arm and tugs him with her.

"Ugh, I think I'm dead." Emma gasps out when they get to the top.

"Love, I wasn't the one who wanted to walk up." Killian looks only slightly green, and he peers over the edge.

"Tell me about the Tower." Emma stands next to him, she's all too aware of their proximity because of the crowds around them. She gives up trying to move away from him, people shove her right back. So she just sticks to his side. He puts an arm around her waist naturally, and it feels _right_.

"It was built in-"

"Something interesting."

"Bloody hell woman, fine." He ponders a bit. "The Eiffel Tower is known as a romantic spot for lovers, but also it's supposed to be haunted. Many estranged lovers have thrown themselves off the top because of bad relationships and such. There's said to be a ghost of a woman, who got pushed off by her lover because she wanted to end things. He couldn't take rejection."

"Oh." She says in a small voice.

"You're supposed to hear her laughter. Or her screams." He shrugs.

They're both silent for a bit. Nope, no screams or laughter.

"Thanks for everything." Emma says and he turns towards her.

Taking the chance, she kisses him softy on the side of his mouth, then pulls away, not missing the lost expression on his face.

* * *

Killian made it his goal to take her around and see the sights. Everyday he'd knock on her door, the first couple days she learned to wake up beforehand and get dressed, and they'd drive to wherever he had planned.

He took her to the Notre Dame cathedral, where she was reminded of The Hunchback of Notre Dame. He said he'd never seen it, or any other Disney movie. So _her_ goal was to make him watch all the good ones.

They went to the Louvre Museum where she saw the Mona Lisa and the Venus de Milo which was in Hercules. Again, he'd never seen it.

Today, he's taking her along the Seine River. (They took the metro because though she likes wrapping her arms around him, it's still a little unsafe.) People have green boxes and sell old books, keychains, magnets, paintings and besides a whole variety of other things, locks.

Across from the Pont Neuf bridge, is another bridge. It's weighed down by thousands of locks, from lovers. Emma thinks it's stupid, seeing as a whole panel from the bridge fell off a few months who because of the weight. Pollution is what it was.

Emma's a closet romantic though, and the tiny part of her, (Regina,) thinks it's all very cute and romantic. She wishes she had someone to put a lock on the bridge with. She once thought she and Neal had that, but no. He wasn't who she thought he was at all.

"See that?" Killian now pointed to the bridge. "That's where-"

"I know." Emma fiddled with her bag strap. "I almost put a lock on there a few years ago."

"Oh? Who's the lucky guy?" He stops suddenly.

"Gone. Didn't like commitment and decided to show me by leaving me to the police with stolen goods."

"Ah."

"It's a thing of the past." Emma says convincingly.

"Mmhmm."

She looks at his face, which shows that he doesn't believe her.

"It is!"

"I said 'mmhmm'!" He laughs and she grabs his hand midswing. He only looks at her curiously for a moment, and then resumes walking, their arms swinging between them.

Maybe one day she'd have someone to-

"Oi Swan! Look at the breasts on this lass!" She rolls her eyes as he looks at some painting replica of a naked girl. She has to look away though, when she sees the girl seems to be in the throes of passion.

The two of them walk back to the metro, where Emma inhales enough smoke to blacken her lungs, and smells enough piss to last her a lifetime. Maybe next time he'll drive.

They get on the train, and there's two seats left, innocently there in their weird, swirly seat design. They sit and after a few seconds, Killian slowly puts his arm across her shoulders. Emma doesn't even think, (and Regina doesn't even need to suggest it,) she snuggles in and puts her head on his chest.

A few stops later, the same lady Emma's seen before comes on. Her violin is there again, and she puts the bow to its strings, expertly staying steady on her feet as the train lurches and bumps.

The lady takes one look at Killian's arm across Emma's shoulders and smiles. "This is for the two lovers," and starts to play a haunting, but beautiful song.

Some people ignore her, or just look at them curiously. Others look annoyed that their quiet commute was interrupted. Yet others around them smile, one lightly claps.

Emma thought about protesting, say they just met a few weeks ago, like some cliche movie. That she doesn't know what they are; they aren't official, what they are doesn't even have a label. He's her tour guide? But she can't deny what they have so she just smiles at him.

* * *

They get back to the apartment, and they go to say goodbye and part ways. To go to different rooms and sleep alone.

Obviously they don't do that.

Emma doesn't know who started it. All she knows is that his lower lip is between her teeth, and he's groaning softly, restraining himself.

They're still in the hallway, but it doesn't stop Killiam from detaching his lips from Emma's and fastening onto the lobe of her ear. Now it's she that can barely hold back the noises that so desperately need to come out. His grip on her shoulders is tight and she can feel his nails digging into her skin.

"Inside. Now."

"I was planning on that, love."

"I meant my apartment."

Killian doesn't even stop his ministrations, just picks her up bridal style and she fumbles for her key.

He finally does stop as she inserts the key in and finally, _finally_ they're in the privacy of her room.

He tears the buttons of her button up, and she barely controls her hands as they make their way up his shirt. Beneath her hands is hard, lean muscle. She realizes that somewhere between the door and her bed, her pants are off.

"You're in too many clothes." Emma says in a low voice.

"Patience." He kisses her roughly. She tugs his shirt off as he unfastens her bra.

She's naked now, except for her panties. He stares at her, awe in his eyes and she wonders if a similar expression is written across her face.

"J'adore vous," He whispers and the words resonate deep down in her belly. They're kissing again, her tongue swipes his bottom lip, asking for entrance which he allows. His lips part and it's a battle for dominance now, their tongues fighting.

Emma nips gently at his jaw, and it all feels so _alive _and _electric. _

He lowers his head, teeth scraping along her neck. He stops to suck at a pulse point and she just _knows _that there'll be a hickey there later. Killian ever so slowly starts to make a burning trail down her chest. He stops at her breasts and when he takes a nipple into her mouth she can't hold back the gasp. "Killian..." she murmers.

He pauses long enough to smirk up at her, but she wipes off the expression as she arches up, and he begins again, rolling the other nipple with his fingers.

It really isn't fair that someone can be so talented with their tongue and fingers. "God, Killian," she moans.

She finds herself thinking that she isn't really showing him how _much _she appreciates it all. So she stops him from going any lower and he looks at her in surprise.

"What's wrong?"

"Let me." She says quietly and brings his lips back to hers. It's slow, and sensual and this time she takes control.

Killian groans, low in his throat and the sound seems to vibrate through her. It's as though sparks fly from where skin meets skin and everything is spinning and all he can focus on is _her._

Time seems to pass slowly, and soon she's the one making a searing hot trail down his front. When she takes him into her mouth, he manages to say her name. Not Swan, not love. "_Emma_."

The night is filled with gasps and moans. Wishes to go _harder_ and _faster_. Their bodies touch from chest to toes, and all she's aware of is him. It's right when he's about to fall over the edge, he says something, and she falls along with him.

* * *

They both sleep in. It's not until noon that they wake up.

Emma awakens first. She's conscious of the warm arm wrapped around her, and that her head is tucked under Killian's chin. It's comfortable and she wishes she could stay like that forever, except that it's really hot and there's still no fan.

She gently nudges him and he stirs.

"Hey." She smiles as she spies her bra. Which is on the floor.

"Hey." His voice is husky, and she's reminded of him singing. "Did that meet your expectations?"

"Definitely." She trails her fingers lightly down the arm that's wrapped around her. "Should have known from your guitar playing how talented your fingers are."

He chuckles then presses his lips to her bare shoulder. "You were pretty bloody talented too, love."

She gets up, and is aware of how sore she is.

"Mmph." He buries his face into her recently vacated pillow.

"Come on! It's past ten, where are you taking me?" Emma teases.

"I'll tell you after I eat. Again." His tongue does something so _sinful_ that she has to keep her inner voice, Regina, in check just in case she says something. "Oh and by the way," he smirks, tongue between his teeth, "I found your tattoo."

Emma rolls her eyes. "You saw every inch of me last night, I'm not surprised."

"Why the ship? It's sails are all tattered." He remembers trailing his fingers across it, and wondering. But she had done something with her lips that made him lose his train of thought.

"I just had this whole notion you know? I've sailed through metaphorical stormy seas and gone through so much crap, that I felt like some kind of weathered ship." She shrugs. "Also, I was going through a nautical phase."

"You know, one day you're going to have to tell me all about that." He sits up. "And about this wanker who broke your heart."

"I promise." Emma laughs.

Killian finally gets off the bed and hugs her from behind.

"We have no clothes on." Emma reminds him, breathless.

"You didn't have a problem with it last night." He nips at her ear.

"I have to take a shower. I have sex hair." Emma says as she sees herself in the mirror and makes a face.

"Wouldn't want to waste water..." He says in a sly voice. It's obvious what he wants and normally she'd say no, she was worn out. But she hates that his accent is even more prominent, and it sways her. And because it's _him_, and she's had a problem with saying no ever since she met him.

"Fine."

* * *

"So what's the plan?" She makes them a cup of tea.

"There's this tour bus. A 'hop on, hop off,' bus. You hop on at one of its stops and-"

"You hop off at another." Emma finishes.

"I've already got the route planned out." He takes a sip of the tea, and gags. "Geez lass, trying to burn me?"

* * *

"This is our 'hop off'." He grabs her hand and she smiles sillily at that.

"Why, what's here?" Emma asks as they step off the bus. They were here yesterday.

"These." He gestures to the green boxes of knick knacks that they saw before.

Killian begins pulling her over to a box, Emma sees that it sells locks and she knows what he wants.

"That lock bridge thing?"

"I saw you staring at the bridge yesterday." He says. "And you sounded so wistful about it too."

"I-yeah I was." Emma stammers. He's always managed to take her by surprise with his perceptiveness.

He pays the four euros to the grinning seller, and they walk hand in hand toward the bridge. The center of the bridge is where it all started, there isn't a chain link free. But towards the edges of the bridge, there are scatterings of empty space.

"You pick." Killian lets go of her hand and she already misses his warmth.

"Here." The closest locks around where she picked say SW+PC, BF+R, and RM+RH. There's a story behind every one of them. Them and the thousands of other locks. They're just contributing to all the happy endings locked onto the bridge.

He fastens the lock on and it makes a satisfying clicking noise. She takes one of the two keys, and he the other.

They stare at the scene for a bit, until Killian takes Emma's hand again, and they walk off to wherever their story takes them.

And they live happily ever after.

* * *

**So hopefully this is the first of many OUAT fics! I really love Captain Swan, (and obviously the rest of the characters,) and maybe I'll use more than two characters next time...Feedback is great! The button's still lonely.**


	4. God (Notre) Dame It

**Oh look, J'adore is expanding! I love J'adore!Killian and Emma, so I'll continue to write in their verse.**

**Thank you so much to sabrinatheoncer for giving me a couple suggestions. I'd love more, even ones that have nothing to do with this story.**

**Disclaimer: Disney owns Hunchback movie and Victor Hugo owns the book. Adam Horowitz and Eddy Kitsis own OUAT.**

* * *

"Oi! Swan!" The pounding on the door wakes her up. Again. Even Regina's getting pissed off. Or as Killian puts it, _brassed off._

"I'm up!" She screams, most definitely _not_ up. Emma spots herself in the mirror, and cringes. She looks like Princess Anna, when she got awoken on Coronation Day. She hurriedly tugs a brush through her tangled, blonde mane, and puts on a robe. She shuffles to open the door, then throws a "make yourself at home," at him as she runs to the bathroom, almost slipping in the hallway.

"You said you were up!" Killian calls, teasingly.

"That was called lying." Emma mutters as she shoves a toothbrush in her mouth, only to discover she forgot toothpaste. _The day can only go up from here._

_Unbeknownst to Emma, Killian's freaking out._

As soon as she had pulled away that day at the Eiffel Tower, he'd missed her touch. The scent of oranges and vanilla vanishing already as she looked into his eyes for a second, then led him to the elevators.

He hadn't felt this way since Milah. His heart had hinted at having room for another, but now it was being downright pushy. Shoving images of Emma into his mind, he thought he could escape it all by sleeping.

Haha _nope_.

His heart and brain were for once working together. If anything, sleeping only made things more vivid. He wasn't conscious enough to push it away. And to make matters worse, it wasn't just images. Scents, and feelings and if he had to be reminded of the feeling of her legs and arms wrapped around him on that damn moped, he'd blow up.

"Ready!" Emma comes barreling into the living room, clad in gladiator sandals, leggings and a beige tank top. The colouring reminds him so much of Milah, he expects the pang of sadness to hit him. The pang is noticeably muted.

"Notre Dame today." He puts on a smile and when he sees her answering one, it feels lighter.

"Oh! I've wanted to see it ever since I saw the movie."

"What movie? Some kind of documentary?" He's puzzled as they walk down the stairs; she ahead of him, and he ignores the way the leggings cling.

"Noooo, the Disney one. "

"Never seen it."

Emma's jaw drops. "Well guess what we're seeing later today mister."

They get to where he parked his moped, (great he's going to be reminded,) and he gets on first. Soon they're weaving through traffic to one of Paris' most famous landmarks.

* * *

"And the gargoyles talk and-"

"Of course. If it isn't talking animals, it's talking stone statues." He rolls his eyes as they stand at the top, a bit winded after all the stairs.

"I've always loved fairytales." Emma speaks wistfully, and he finds himself turning to look at her. She draws him in, he'll admit that. Everything she says or does.

"Mind explaining lass?"

"I've just uh, lots has happened. I was in the system and ran away and well, Disney movies and fairytales made me think everything would get better, that we all have a happy ending."

"Didn't you resent it? It was basically rubbing it in your face that not everyone gets one." He sure did. Instead of marrying his true love and riding off into the sunset, she dies in his arms.

"No. I'm on my way to my happiness for sure. I found my parents, I have tons of friends now, I'm in _Paris._" He smiles as he sees that she might not even believe she's really here.

"That's great to hear."

"So, tell me about the cathedral." She props her arms up on the railing.

"It translates to '_Our Lady of Paris_'. Notre Dame de Paris. It-"

"Something i-"

"-_Interesting. _Okay okay. A well known book written by Victor Hugo is _The Hunchback of Notre Dame, _which is about-"

He stops at her disbelieving snort. "What?"

"That's what the movie's _based_ on, dummy."

"Oh, so I call you lass and love and I get _dummy?_"

* * *

"You're lucky I brought popcorn with me." Emma says as they sit back down at the couch in her rental place, his back against the back, and hers against the side.

"Thanks love." He's told her about how you just _have_ to watch a movie with popcorn, and she triumphantly had pulled out a bag from her suitcase.

"You're also lucky I've got over fifty Disney movies stored in my laptop." The movie starts in 1482, and soon she's humming along to _God Help the Outcasts_ with Esmerelda and he's watching amused.

"You've got a nice voice lass." He compliments.

"Thanks," she blushes.

It's not until after the movie that Killian realizes something. Maybe Milah hadn't been his true love, and that was why they hadn't gotten married like they had planned.

Maybe _Emma_ was.

God damnit.

* * *

**Feedback is loved, and I'm looking forward to it. I have no way of knowing what to do without it, this fic is riding solely on suggestions. Okay, I _do_ have a vague idea but really. Suggestions.**

**So thanks again to sabrinatheoncer for supplying me with some wonderful ideas.**

**I'll be posting the Louvre chapter next!**


	5. Louvre

**Thank you to sabrinatheoncer for the suggestion I write them falling in love.**

******I SAW A CLIP ON TUMBLR OF THE TWO OF THEM KISSING WHILE FILMING S4E4. NEED TO WATCH DESPERATLY.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own OUAT. Disney owns Hercules and its songs, as well as the other Disney movies I mention.**

* * *

After his epiphany, he finds it harder to stay away from her. Killian had planned to give her a couple of days to adjust to Parisian life, without him.

The next day he finds himself knocking on her door.

"I'm up!" A voice yells through the door. He inwardly smirks. _Sure you are, lass._

"Can I come in?"

"Yeah, door's unlocked!"

He sits heavily on her couch and rubs a hand over his eyes tiredly. He hadn't gotten a wink of sleep last night.

"Okay, let's go." She emerges, and he gives her the once over while smirking.

"Were you planning on having us match?" He is of course referring to her tight, white button up tank top and black leggings and his white button up and black pants.

"Shit." She dashes back into her room before he can say anything else. Like, "_which is fine with me."_

"_Now_ let's go." He's a tiny bit pleased to see she hasn't really changed, just shrugged on a jean jacket. The weather has been chilly, unlike its usual temperatures at this time of the year.

"Called a taxi this time. Louvre is quite far-" he stops suddenly. There goes the surprise. Out the metaphorical window.

"_WHAT?" _She gives a little shriek. "We're going to the _Louvre_?!"

_Oops_.

* * *

Sometimes, Emma falls too hard. Too fast. The first and only time that had happened he had left her alone, and in possession of stolen goods. She'd vowed to _never _feel like that again. Abandoned and used. So she had built her walls, steel and strong and what she had assumed were impenetrable.

Damn all sexy, accented, musical, and chivalrous men named Killian Jones.

Emma admits to falling for his voice first. Then shallowly falling for his looks. But she's gotten to know him and it's all of him that she likes. He's like her in so many ways. She had recognized the look of loneliness at first glance.

Which is also why she can't bear to admit she might care for him. As in _love_ him. He'd only end up leaving her, like everyone else. And what if she left him? Then she'd be one of the who knows how many that left _him_. And besides, they've only known each other for a few days.

The knock at her door almost has her choke on her toothpaste. She spits it out before yelling that's she's up.

He asks to come in and she yells that the door's unlocked. She doesn't _keep_ it unlocked, burglars were the whole reason she had been shutting her window every day after hearing him. She just unlocks it when she wakes up sometime before ten.

"Okay, let's go." Emma immediently sees his eyes raking over her form and she resists the urge to roll her eyes. It's a good thing she knows being a pig isn't his entire persona, or she'd have kicked him out, accent and looks or not.

She also sees they match.

His smirk and words have her scurrying back into her room. It's a shame too, he seemed to like her outfit. So she just shrugs on a jacket to cover up her shirt a bit.

When he accidentally says they're going to the Louvre, she starts squealing. She's said before that she actually likes museums, seeing history layered out before her. Paintings and sculptures are something she can stare at for hours, (though she really doesn't like ones depicting nakedness. Even though it's art it makes her uncomfortable.)_  
_

And to go to the _mother_ of museums?! With the Mona Lisa and the Venus de Milo?

"Let's go, let's go!" She all but shoves him out the door, and locks the door behind them.

* * *

"She's naked too, Swan." Killian teases as he points at a large-ish sculpture surrounded by a large-ish crowd. He expects her to flush and turn away hastily, but what she _does_ do is stare at it. "Swan?"

"That's the Venus de Milo!" Emma shakes his arm. "You know, in _Hercules _where he skips a stone and knocks the arms off?"

"Hercules? Or Heracles the Greek form?"

"Neither. The Disney movie."

"Never seen it." He grins at her exasperated look. Of course he has. It was about a boy with nothing who became a man with everything. The girl, a family, and awesome muscles. Something he had aways wished for as a kid. But he knew she'd want to watch it with him if he said he hadn't seen it.

"God, what did you watch in your childhood?"

His smile melts off, and Emma watches a little horrified at the _look._ The lonely one. It's what she saw in the mirror at every foster home and in the orphanage.

"Nevermind." She pats his arm as if in a teasing way, but they both can tell it's a comforting gesture. "Guess we'll have to watch it later."

"With popcorn?" He asks.

"Obviously. Now stay here, I need a picture of her!"

A little while later they're wandering the Italian wing. Paintings adorn the walls and there are too many nude ones, much to Emma's displeasure.

As soon as they enter the room with the Mona Lisa, they're jostled. It seems every square inch directly in front of the famous painting is filled. Emma feels a bit sorry for the other paintings in the room, which are ignored.

"You want a picture with her too?" He asks, not looking forward to diving into the crowd.

"Nah." Emma stares at it a bit longer, than she tugs Killian's hand out of the room.

She ignores the spark as her fingers touch his.

* * *

"Pop the popcorn." She tosses the bag to him and after fiddling with her weird microwave, he manages to set it for two and a half minutes.

"You got the movie?" He asks as he watches her boot up her laptop. The weather had heated up, and she was now dressed in shorts with her tank top. She had really nice legs, he noticed. Damn it.

"Duh. As well as..." she rattles off a list that has easily fifty titles in it. He only recognizes Peter Pan.

"Okay okay, play the bloody movie." He flops onto her couch, which had been pulled out to reveal a fold up bed. "You've got me in your bed, and we're going to _watch a Disney movie?" _He teases.

"Shush." She hits him with a pillow as the Muses start singing.

He thought he'd be able to hide it, but as soon as _Go the Distance_ starts, he accidentally sings the first line loud enough for Emma to hear. She jabs the space bar, pausing it.

"What was that?" She asks.

"What was what?" He deflects innocently.

"You liar." She pokes him in the arm, hard.

"Okay, so I've seen it. Which is probably the only Disney movie I've seen besides _Peter Pan_." He admits sheepishly.

"Sing." She orders suddenly.

"What, love?" _Love._

Regina's cooing in her ear, and Emma pinches the skin between her finger and thumb.

_Shut up-_

_Love! He called you love!_

_He always calls me love. He calls _everybody_ love._

_Don't rain on my parade Miss Swan._

_Don't 'Miss' me you evil-_

"Lass? You spaced out?"

"Sing! You know the words and I bet you have a better voice than Roger Bart." She gives him the _puppydog eyes._

Damn it.

"Then you're singing '_Won't Say I'm in Love." _He doesn't know she inwardly curses: _of fucking course he asks me to sing that._

"It'd be better if the one who knows how to sing sings." She laughs. "You don't want to hear me."

"Fine, you'll hum."

"Fine."

* * *

They've gotten through half of her Disney collection, and Killian's the only one awake. She managed to make it to _The Little Mermaid,_ then slowly drifted off. After a couple minutes of her sleeping, she put her head on Killian's shoulder.

He panicked at first, not moving a muscle. But now he's put an arm around her shoulders, and she snuggles in unconsciously. He lets out a sigh, just rests his head on hers.

They stay like that for a bit, but when Emma wakes up the laptop is off and the apartment empty.

She realizes there's a note on the screen though, so she plucks it off.

_Thanks love._

Emma curses softly, but runs her fingers over the last word.

* * *

**If you _loved_ this chapter, make sure to leave a review! That's all for the Missing Scenes, I'll be expanding a bit more though so LEAVE ME A SUGGESTION! I CRAVE IT!**


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